Broken Defender

Chapter Thirteen ~ Giving In To A Feeling

What do I even think of him now? Do I care? I felt as though my worries and fears were starting to fade away. Everything suddenly came second to the attraction I felt for Harry. I knew it was stupid. I'd told myself a thousand times that falling this fast was a super bad idea, so why couldn't I help it? Why was I so drawn to him? "So are you gonna want to waste your time reading again?" He asked. His hands still cupped my face, his eyes pleading. He was irresistible. I couldn't turn him down now, especially not after that kiss. "Reading isn't a waste of time." I argued, serious but flirtatious. He merely scoffed, rolling his eyes at me. "Don't make me drag you out of here again." He threatened, taking me by the hand. I didn't protest, following along as he pulled me back toward the exit. I loved this. I wondered if the librarians were at all curious as to whom he even was. They hardly looked up as he dragged me out of the library like he had done just last Saturday. And I smiled at the coincidence, holding tightly to his hand as he pulled me through the nipping cold air.

"Where are we going?" I asked; curious at his hurried pace. "I don't know." He spoke over his shoulder, pulling me in the opposite direction we had gone last week. We were headed toward the outskirts of town, almost running as we passed businesses and shops. "Where are we going?" I couldn't help asking again, jogging to keep up with his long strides. "Where you'll talk to me." He eventually explained, making sense of his trek. What did that mean? He quickly cut off of the sidewalk, stepping onto the thinning snow and heading into an opened field. I wasn't positive as to whose property we were; no doubt, trespassing on... but this town was basically farm country anyway, or at least it was surrounded by farm country, so there was no way of knowing where property lines stopped and started without; of course, the assistance of fence barriers. But as there was no fence preventing our journey, I didn't worry much. "Harry, slow down!" I ordered, pulling his hand back in order to halt him a bit. He turned to face me; a smile drew up on his wind-reddened face. "I just want to talk." He defended, heading toward a lake. I'll admit I'd never been here before. Though this field was close enough to town that I could have easily seen it from a sidewalk, I had never bothered. I didn't see much outside of my common routine, because I had long since held the understanding that there was nothing worth seeing. Though this lake didn't look like much, even this escapade had opened my eyes a bit. Maybe this town wasn't as dull as I thought; rather my routine had been boring. The lake was quite pretty, yet a bit overrun. This wasn't anyone's prized lake; not a destination for row boaters or fisherman, though I'll admit it was far more attractive than the creek from Sunday had been. Was it coincidental that he had just pulled me out of the library for the second time, and wound up near a body of water for the second time?

I shook off that question, looking forward as he plopped down onto a snow ridden, and hardened patch of ground; forearms on his knees as he stared back at the lake in front of him. I followed him, sitting down slowly, just as he had, and staring back at him in curiosity. Finally he looked my way, smirking up at my perplexed expression. "Okay so I've noticed you only want to talk to me when we're somewhere completely random, like the park last week." He explained, running his fingers through the un kept ringlets, and waves of his dark hair. His eyes bored into mine, searching for answers to unasked questions. "Well what am I supposed to talk about?" I contended. We'd done our share of conversation making, and frankly I didn't see much for us to discuss. "We've already done that. We've talked about everything." I vocalized, shrugging my shoulders and looking away from him. I clutched at the aging fabric of my sweatshirt sleeve, nervously using it as a timely occupation. "No we haven't. I mean not really." He retorted, looking back out at the water. "Are you bored?" He included, smirking a bit. His voice dropped an octave without reason. I nodded my head, in denial, sighing in a prolonged manner as if to organize my thoughts. "I'm not bored... I just don't talk much." I stated weakly, biting my tongue, as I knew he would denounce my remark. As I suspected, he rolled his eyes, quietly laughing at that statement. "I seem to recall you blabbing all day Sunday." He informed snidely, licking at his lower lip in enjoyment, and running a hand across his mess of curls once again. "You touch your hair a lot." I noted, changing the subject as a means of self-preservation. I knew he wasn't one for conversation detours, but I figured a topic as menial as that would be an exception. He chuckled, brushing his curls from his eyes again, only validating my accusation. "Cause it gets in my face." He explained, tilting his head a touch; causing the mass of brown curls to spill across their permanently fixated residence along the right side of his head. I would have argued for him to cut it, but I liked his hair too much. It was charming, and quite unique. I smiled in adoration, reaching up, and pulling a strand of his hair in front of his face, misplacing it. He grinned too, shrugging it away again out of habit as my hand returned to my lap. "It's cute. I like it." I informed. My stomach stirred at the remark. That would have been far too forward of a compliment before... but I didn't mind now. I didn't care that he knew I liked him. "Not as cute as yours." He argued, reaching up and taking a strand of my red hair, twisting it between his fingers. I rolled my eyes, my cheeks growing heated at the tribute. I wouldn't have reacted in such a fashion had anyone else said this, but his admiration seemed so personal, so intimate. His green eyes whisked about my expression again. His lips edged into a smile; fingers twisting trough my tresses. "You still don't believe me." He determined, scooping the strand of my hair up closer now to his eye level, as he looked it over more thoroughly. I shrugged, leaning back on my palms against the cold ground. It didn't matter what I thought, obviously. He was going to disagree. After moments of staring, and twisting the strands of my hair in his fingers, he finally dropped it, causing it to fall back against my chest where it had so comfortably resided before.